Hold My Heart, Spot Colon
by queenofnewyorkx3
Summary: What happens when Kiera runs away to become a newsie, and to avoid marrying the horrible Oscar Delancey? And what happens when she meets Spot! Will they fall in love? Will Oscar find her? Rated M for mature themes & sex.
1. Running Away

_Author's Note:_

This first chapter moves very fast…so sorry about that! But the rest will actually be decent, I promise.  Thanks!

**Chapter One (Kiera aka Slingshot's POV)**

"But mother, please!" I said, tears forming in my eyes. I was breathing deeply, feeling like I might faint.

"That's enough, Kiera! Oscar Delancey is a wonderful young boy. He is very wealthy, and he wants kids, just like you do. You have everything in common, dearie." She inhaled. "I don't want to hear another word about this. Oscar will be arriving in one hour with his father, where we will discuss the wedding details. Go ready yourself." She walked away and then turned around, "and use that bust-adjusting bra, no men like a flat woman!"

How could she? Oscar Delancey was a horrible person.

A stupid, good-for-nothing asshole.

"That's it," I said to myself. I had everything I needed to run away. A toothbrush, toothpaste, pants, a shirt, jacket, socks and dirty old shoes. I walked over to my closet and retrieved the newsie hat that had once belonged to my grandpa, Peter. I grabbed my long hair, twisted it up into a bun and pinned it up. I picked up my bag and slid my newsie hat on. "Goodbye, Mother," I said, and ran down the balcony and into the streets. I looked up at my mother's fancy apartment, and turned around. That was in the past now. I ran and ran, knocking over a little boy selling papes, and tossed him two quarters for his trouble. Surprising, though. Two quarters? Since when is that a lot of money? Oh. "Not a rich girl anymore, Kiera," I said to myself. "Sling, shooter, pumpkin, rain, spring, key, slingshot!" I said. Slingshot. Well, that's all I need to live on the streets. A name. But the problem is, I'm scared of slingshots....

I looked behind me as I felt something hit my back. A boy, a quite handsome boy, was aiming a slingshot at me. Must be from Brooklyn, most of us Brooklyn kids know how to work a slingshot quite well. Except me, I've been scared of them since my cousin accidentally shot me with one and gave me a black eye.

"What?" I asked him, "If ya don't mind I'se got to go find Spot Colon."

"Well look no further, my dear," he said, "I am the King. The King of Brooklyn. The Famous Spot Colon But wait, I'se believe you knocked over little Hops, just a few minutes ago," he said, pointing to the small boy I had tripped a moment before.

"Sorry!" I said, feeling horrible. I reached in my bag and flipped another two quarters off my thumb and into the boys hands. I smiled as his face lit up, and turned back to Spot Colon, who looked stunned himself.

He started to say something, but then he laughed, "Did you know the Bulls is after you'se?" he asked.

"No they're not..." I said, laughing. I pulled my hat on tighter, but a gust of wind knocked it off, and my hair was exposed as it fell out of its place. Most of the newsies were staring at me with holy-shit-hes-not-a-boy-hes-actually-a-goil faces, but as I looked at Spot's face it simply seemed like he was happy about it.

Spot walked up to me and turned me around. Indeed, there were four Police Officers running full speed towards me,blowing their whistles and knocking down a little boy sellin' bread... But how did they know I ran away? Someone must've seen me...but before I knew it I was holding Spot Colon's hand, and running into a smelly, dirty, Boys Lodging House. I followed Spot over to a not-so-comfy looking bed and sat down next to him on it. I smiled at him, and it seemed, as if for a mere second, his cold, gray eyes softened.

He tipped his head towards me as he made eye contact with another boy, who nodded and retrieved four blankets for me, but they all had tiny holes in them. Oh well, that's what this new life gets me. But I'd much rather this than pure silk plankets to sleep under, with Oscar Delancey someday. "You can sleep here. And know this, I don't do this. At all. I don't take in goil newsies from the street. Evah. But you seem okay, and my newsies seem to like you. So stay here. But foist you need a name...."

"Slingshot." I said fast, and watched Spot carefully to see if it was okay. He simply smiled and nodded. He walked out the door and left me sitting on my bed, with every Brooklyn Newsboy staring straight at me. One of them took of his hat and was waving it around in front of his face to keep cool, but the others just stared.

"Fellas!" Spot called, "first one done with sellin' gets to show her how to sell papes tomorrow!" Spot smiled as the newsboys poured out into the streets, begging even their friends to buy their papes. He smiled at me again and laughed. "Stay hea' till we get back. A pretty goil like you shouldn't go wanderin' these streets alone. Especially if those Bulls haven't given up yet. We'll be back soon."

I nodded, and watched Spot slip out the door. I quickly changed into my new clothes, and slipped my hat back on. I carefully snuck outside and rolled around in dirt. Then I ran back inside and checked myself out in the mirror.

I smiled. "Perfect."


	2. The Rooftop Alone

CHAPTER TWO!

* * *

**Author's Note:**

It's been about a week since Slingshot moved in with the Brooklyn Newsies and met Spot. Nothing's happened except a few laughs & selling papes, plus getting to know each other a little.

By the way, if any of you have newsie names you want me to use, I will in later chapters, because I need more newsie names for the Brooklyn Newsies, since the only newsie in Brooklyn you know is Spot.

* * *

The roof was my private place to sit and think. No one ever came up here; only me. I'd crawl up there at midnight and just think about things. And here I was again. The midnight air was crisp and cold, but in my thin little shirt it felt comfortable, somehow. I liked having my hair blown around in loose little pieces by the wind, it just felt, well, _comfortable_.

"Use that bust adjusting bra, Kiera, no men like a flat woman…" I laughed at my mother's last words to me; had she known she'd never see me again, she might've said something a little more, _motherly_. But not "Don't Go," because that's just not how my mother was. But she used to be.

Before my father had died, we were the happiest family in the world. We used to laugh at the people that wore big, furry coats and carried lace umbrellas on sunny days. At night, we always sat together on our roof, high up in the sky, and that's what I did now. I pretended my father was with me, hugging me, and I felt comfortable again.

"Look at us," I said, smiling as I held up a picture of my family, "such a big, happy, family."

"Slingshot, you comin' down from there? You'se been up there all night! Don't be angry at me if you'se gets turned into an icicle-thing."

I laughed. "Be right down, Spot!" I yelled into the doorway. I walked over to my little spot on the roof, and smiled as I looked up at the brightest star in the sky. "See Daddy, I'se got someone like you takin' care of me now. Good Night, I love you." I tucked the picture in a little place where no one would ever find it, and closed the door to the roof behind me.

____- The Next Day -____

"A'right, a'right, settle down. Today's me birthday," Spot said. "As ya know, I have to choose five of ya, and ya all have to give me something that I want, but for no money. So hea' goes: Spits, I'm takin' ya marbles for my slingshot. Four-eyes, I'se takin' ya sellin' spot. Dusty and Switchblade I'se is takin' both of your hair gels even tho' I don't need em, and Slingshot…I'm goin' up to the roof wit ya tonight and you'se have to tell me what you'se think about up there."

"Fine," I said.

But little did I know, it wasn't going to be a few questions here and there.

Spot's a damn interrogator.

* * *

***Interrogator= **to examine by questioning formally or officially.

(most people know that word, but I just put it in there for those of you who don't.)

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter, but **the next chapter's going to be a lot bigger.** I didn't want to start Chapter 3 (which is the rooftop w/ spot) because there's going to be a lot that happens. Except Chapter 3 out within a week, most likely less than a full week. R&R!

* * *


	3. The Star of Daydreamers and Thinkers

**Chapter 3**

"So what did you wanna know?" I asked. For Spot's birthday, he said I had to bring him up to the rooftop and answer all of his questions. It had been silent for a minute, but I could tell that Spot was deep in thought about what to ask first. The wind was howling, and the sky was black, but it was just the way I liked it. And Spot was up here with me, ruining my peace and quiet.

"You'se come up here to think about your family, don't you'se?" He asked, looking straight into my eyes. He looked serious, like he really cared. But was it possible for the King of Brooklyn, the boy with cold, gray eyes, to even care about anything?

"Yeah, Spot, I do. I walked over to where I kept my picture of my whole family, and handed it to him. "That's us. One big happy family. Or, at least that's how it used to be."

Spot looked up from the picture. "Used ta be?"

I nodded. "My dad died. After that, my mom broke down. She's all about finding me the perfect guy now, and she's given up on love completely; even with me. She doesn't love me, Spot. And that's why I ran away. Well, and there's something else, but it doesn't matter."

"Hey! It's me boifday, you'se gotta tell me what else it is." I shook my head, but he kept starring at me with his _you-know-you-have-to-tell-me_ look. "Trust me; I'se had a pretty rough time with me own family. I'll understand." His eyes softened.

"Okay, fine." I took a deep breath. "I was engaged to Oscar Delancey. That's the real reason I ran away." I couldn't look at Spot, because I knew that he wouldn't be able to handle it. "If you want to kick me out, it's understandable; I'll go whenever you want me to…"

"What?" Spot stood up. "Why would I'se kick you'se out? You'se ain't the kind of goil who can live on the streets, and manage to hide from people like Oscar Delancey. He's horrible. But Slingshot," he said, taking my hands. "I, we, I mean we, we love you. You're always welcome here, and we'll never let you leave. Ever." He looked up at me and smiled.

My heart was filled with butterflies, and it felt a little strange. I felt like he understood me, and it was amazing, because no one else ever had. Even my own father. But they both loved me, and now I knew it. They cared for me, and always would.

"Spot, what about you?"

"What about me?" he said, his hands slipping from mine to light his cigar. "Oh, you mean my family?" he asked. As I nodded, he took a deep sigh. "Well, my father hit my mother, so she left when I was a little kid. And as for my father, he went into a depression after that. He still loved me, and never hurt me, but we were never close. But then he died of the flu. After that, I was left all by myself, so I ran away. I ran to the newsies. And that's basically my story."

"There's gotta be more to it than that. I mean, don't get mad at me for this, but, well, doesn't something in that make you the kind of, _heartless_, person New York thinks you are."

He nodded, and laid back against the brick wall on the roof. "I know. One time, my ma came home drunk, and high, and she wasn't thinkin' so clearly. So she brought home some man, and she wasn't rememberin' my pa too much, but he didn't know that. But anyways, he chased that man away as soon as he followed me ma into her bedroom. She was dizzy, but like I'se said, my pa didn't know it, so he started to hit her. And unlike the bruises she usually had, he was makin' her bleed. And she was losin' so much blood, that I'se began to scream. I hit my pa, then, and he looked stunned. I told him what was happenin' to me ma, and he stopped suddenly. He just nodded, and went into his room. As for me ma, she slept in the living room, and I watched her leave the next morning. I let her go, like me pa said I should. But then a day later, me and me pa got into a yellin' fight about somethin', and I went for a walk on the pier. I went out to the docks, and sat down. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was at me house, and me pa was holdin' me. All I can remember was him sayin' that me ma had come back, but had hurt herself, and she died. Those nights made me who I am, though, Slingshot." He sighed. "But there were other fights, too."

Spot began to cry then. I didn't except it, but I went over to him, and held him in my arms. His tears were coming out fast, but quietly. His eyes were closed, and his head was on my shoulder. I didn't notice I was cryin' too, until my tears slid onto my hands. We cried silently together for what seemed like hours, and then we both had no tears left to cry.

We began to talk again, this time about everything. I told him my real name (Kiera), and he told me that his real name was Gabriel. We had conversations about everything, but we were still talking about our lives. It was nice; someone who understood me.

I began to yawn, and started to close my eyes as I rest my head on Spot's shoulder. I smiled, and looked up at the stars. He noticed me staring at the sky, and pointed to the brightest one in the sky.

"That can be our star," he said. "The star of daydreamers and thinkers."

INSERT LINE*

At two a.m., we went downstairs to our rooms, and went to sleep for an hour, but we both couldn't sleep, because we ended up again at the roof, with the wind howling, and my hair flying freely with it.

For a while, we just sat still, occasionally letting a few tears slide

"_Everything just seems so unfair,_

_But I live without a single care._"

He cocked an eyebrow, and turned to me, holding his knees. "Is that a song or something?" he asked, "I've never heard it before."

I shook my head. "My mom used to sing it too me, it was just a lyric, never a full song, but to me, I loved it. And I still do. Even though my mom sure has changed." I sighed. "Sometimes I sing it to myself, ya know? I mean, when I get sad I like to sing it, and sometimes, well sometimes I'se just—"

I made eye contact with Spot, and we both smiled as we leaned in for a kiss. We quickly pulled apart, and he smiled as I giggled. My stomach felt like it was a field of butterflies, and we leaned in again, and kissed under the stars.


	4. I know him, don't I?

The next morning I was giddy with excitement. I couldn't sleep at all last night. Spot and I kissed for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably only a few minutes. The wind was chilly, and we had to crawl into our beds before we caught hypothermia. I brushed my hair through seven times, and readied myself before going downstairs.

As soon as I went downstairs, I wasn't prepared for the distraught faces I saw. _Did someone get hurt?_ I thought. "What happened? Where's Spot, I need to talk to him," I said to Blades, a friend of Spot. "That's what we'se was going to ask _you_." I gasped. "He came back to bed last night, right?" My room was upstairs, and Spot slept downstairs with the rest of the boys. "Well we'se kinda thought he was sleepin' with you." I blushed. "No, we'se just talked on the roof." Another newsie nearby named Scars rolled his eyes, "Hah, yeah right."

I marched over to him and got up in his face. "Wanna say that again, dickhead?" He just laughed. "Now that Spot's not here I don't have to pretend to like you'se." I scoffed at what he said. Blades stepped in front of me. "Oi! Scars! Whudda hell? Just cuz you'se is jealous of Spot having Slingshot as his goil doesn't mean you can be rude to her." Scars smirked and walked out the doors. "I need to go find Spot," I said, "it isn't like him to just leave." I turned to go out the door, but Blades grabbed my arm. "Listen, Slingshot. I know you guys have something goin on, but you're still new here. You don't know the _real_ Spot." I pulled my arm away from him and ran out the door. Who was he to say I don't know Spot? We like each other, Spot and I. I knew him better than anyone else.

Or did I?


	5. Go Home

"Excuse me," I said to a young woman, maybe in her twenties, "have you seen a boy around here?" She laughed and said, "There are a lot of boys around here, sweetie, can you be more specific?"

"Oh, right!" I said. "Tall, walks with a cane, carries a slingshot, brown hair, red suspenders." She studied my worried face for a minute, and then said, "I may have seen him. I think he went in there," she said, pointing down a dark alley. "It leads out to Crown Heights. Bit of a sketchy place, though, so be careful." I nodded, "I'se will. Thank you, Miss." I ran down the street and down the dark alley.

People were shooting up and drinking, couples were kissing, and it looked like smuggling was going on in the alley, too. A man grabbed for my shirt, "Where you'se going sweet-haht? We'se could have a lotta fun." I pulled away and sprinted down the alley, past prostitutes and drug dealers. After dashing through the alley, I came out to the bright light of the sun.

"Excuse me, Sir," I said to a wealthy looking man, "have you seen a newsie around here? Red suspenders, slingshot, anything like that?" He didn't speak a response, instead he just pointed to a dock. I nodded, "Thank you!" As I ran closer to the dock, I could barely make out the figure of a young boy. "Spot?" I called. "Spot?" I kept running and the closer I got the more it looked like Spot. When I finally reached the dock, I grabbed the boy's shoulder and spun him around, only to reveal the familiar face of a newsie. "Spot!"

He was smoking a cigarette, and I ripped it out of his mouth and threw it in the water. "What the hell?" I said. "You've got everyone worried,_ me_ included." He just shrugged and said, "Well I'se is fine as you can see." I scoffed at his sentence as he turned away. "That's all you'se gotta say for yourself?" He stood up, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I stepped back and let his hand fall. He leaned against a railing on the dock, and lit up another cigarette. "Go home, you're not wanted here." I walked towards him and ripped the cigarette out of his mouth. I grabbed the package out of his hand before he could stop me, and threw it into the water. "Bastard," I said, and walked away.

**-Back at the Lodging House in Brooklyn-**

When I walked up to the doors of the Lodging House, I walked in, slamming them, thinking that nobody should get in my way. I was _furious_. How could he be so…awful? Did I do something wrong? It seemed like he was pretty happy with me the night before.

"Toldja you wouldn't find him," Scars said, laughing."

"For your information, I _did_ find Spot," I said. I turned to go up the stairs when an arm grabbed my wrist and pulled me down. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm furious?"

"Whoa, whoa," Blades said, "I'se just wanna know where he is." He stepped back, and let go of my wrist. The rest of the Brooklyn newsies gathered around, waiting for my answer.

I stepped down the stairs slowly and sighed. "He's in Crown Heights."

Another newsie stepped forwards. "Well what's he doin' there?"

I shrugged. "Being an asshole I suppose."

"Doesn't seem like _you_ thought so last night," Scars smirked.

I ran towards him ready to pound my fist into his face. No one had any idea how strong I could be if I wanted to. I could take him down. I raised my hand, ready to punch, when Spot walked in.

SIDE NOTE: I do not know if Crown Heights is a sketchy place or not. For the sake of this story, however, it is.


	6. Spot's Secret

"Ey, Spot!" Scars called, backing up. "Looks like your goil here thinks she can take me."

"Shut up, Scars," he said, "or one day I might actually let her."

"Let me?" I said. "Oh, like I need _your_ permission, you asshole." I pushed my way through the crowd of newsies and to the door, where Spot tried to grab my arm and stop me. "What is it with you Brooklyn newsies and grabbing my arm?" I said. I spit at Spot's feet and jumped out of the door.

I could hear Spot running after me. "Slingshot, _wait_. I can explain."

"Explain why an hour ago you were a jerk to me, and now you'se wants to 'explain'? No. I don't think so, Spot. Go home."

He knew then to stop. I heard him turn around to go home, but I didn't look back. I knew I had to go home. I kept walking until I spotted my mother—and she spotted me.

"Kiera! There she is! There she is!" she said, signaling the bulls to come after me. They blew their whistles and started to chase me.

"Shit," I said, and started running. I ran and ran, dodging a few bulls here and there, until I made it into an alley. I was just beginning to catch my breath when I heard them catching up to me. I took off again, this time running through the creepy alley down to Crown Heights again. I ran up to a group of tough looking guys, handing them a bit of money. "Do me a favor and don't let those bulls through for a while," I said, winking. I didn't know if they would actually listen, but they did. They managed to stop the bulls for a while as I kept running. Eventually I lost them, and by then it was dark out. After waiting it out a bit, I started to walk back towards the alley to get home to the Lodging House.

I scuffed my shoes in the dirt, with my hands in my pocket, thinking. What was up with Spot? Why was he acting so strange? I decided to go get a drink with the little money I had left after paying the guys in the alley to Crown Heights. I entered a place called_ Drink Up_ and sat down at a stool. I persuaded the bartender to pass me a bit of alcohol, and I started to drink. I then heard a familiar voice…Spot's voice, and when I turned around, there he was, sitting across from a gorgeous woman. My heart sank.

How could I ever think he might've had feelings for me? He probably snuck off to Crown Heights to go see her and was furious when I caught him there. When he came home he probably thought he could act like it never happened. _Be calm_, I told myself, but I couldn't be.

I knew then that I had to go home. What was I _doing_? Did I really think I could live the rest of my life as a dirt poor newsie? If I went home and married Oscar it would please my mother and everything would be how it was supposed to be. I finished drinking my beer and got up and started to leave, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"We need to talk." It was Spot.

I sighed, "I'm too tired to fight," I said.

"I know," he said, "I just need to explain myself," he said, motioning to the girl at the booth.

We stepped outside and started walking. We walked in silence for a few moments until I stopped and said, "Well?"

He sighed, "Ask anything."

I thought hard for a few moments, until I came up with my first question. "Who is she? Because honestly Spot, I thought we might've had something." I sighed. "I'm going home. To my mother."

Spot looked at me sternly and gripped both of my shoulders. "No. You're not. I know you, Slingshot, and I know that Oscar Delancey and your mother are not the kind of people you should be around."

"Yeah well I thought I knew you, too."

Spot sighed. "Her name is Rebecca," I said, "and she's my sister."

"Don't lie to me, Spot. Is she really your sister or is she more than that?"

"She's me sister," he said. "She's in trouble. That's why I've been meeting with her. She's a drug addict, and she constantly tries to get me to help her with whatever problems she has, and I try and try, and I have to 'cause she's my sister. She lives here in Crown Heights. Today when you came found me, I was angry with her and upset and worried and I had too many mixed emotions goin' on that I'se just wanted to be alone."

"Spot, I just wish you could have told me. And after last night, up on the rooftop, I just thought maybe you felt something for me like I felt, still feel, for you. And if you don't, Spot, just please tell me now so I don't end up getting hurt again."

Spot said nothing for what seemed like hours, and I started to turn away. "Please wait," he said. "Slingshot," he said, taking my hands, "I do care for you. And that's hard for me to say. I'm Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, fearless leader, with my cold gray eyes, but if there's anything in this world I care about, it's _you_. It's just hard for me to say, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, trying to catch my breath after hearing that Spot cared for me so much, when I had expected a response saying I should leave.

Spot gripped my hand and squeezed it.

"I've been alone in this world for so long, Spot, and I'se need to know I can count on you, and that you can be my shoulder to lean on. No more secrets."

"I'se promise," he said, smiling. His tough but gentle fingers touched my chin, and tipped it up so he could lean in for a kiss.


End file.
